Matt W Cook

Do you hate the blank screen?  That stark whiteness that mocks you, dares you to throw some of your own petty words on it?  It taunts and jabs at you, making you muddled inside while staying pure and clean and white. And what do we say when it does that?  What do we say when it becomes hard to put words on the page?

“I have writer’s block!”

What is writer’s block?  I’m not really sure.  I think we mean that deep feeling of resistance, even revulsion, to writing.  It’s not that we don’t have good ideas.  We just can’t give birth to them.  It hurts.  We push and push, but create nothing new.

I think most people like me (i.e., people who write but had never been paid a cent for it) are pretty sure that writer’s block is just something that you have to deal with.  Work around it, maybe.  Wait until it goes to sleep.  But we never really hope that it will be destroyed altogether.

Suddenly, though, I think we’ve been thinking wrong.  You want to know why?  I think I just killed it.

If you read ten books on writing by ten successful writers, you’ll have ten different opinions on how to get into your flow and create.  Many of them contradict each other, and they all swear by what they do.  I tried every one of them.  And none of them worked.  Especially the ones I thought sounded the best.  So the blocks got worse.  Every time I sat down at a large project, it got harder and harder.  Heck, I hadn’t written anything of consequence on my large project for half a year.  Stuck.

And then I made my own way.  And writer’s block vanished in a puff of smoke.

It’s been two weeks since I started this new way of doing writing.  And I haven’t been stuck yet.  Some days are harder than others, of course.  But I’ve never, ever sat in front of a blank screen and kissed despair.  I’ve never thought of giving up.  I’ve churned out 1000+ words every single session.  Average session time: 2 hours.  I made my own way.  It works.  You know why it works?  Because it’s right for me.  It’s made for me.  Stephen King’s way works for him, but it killed me dead when I tried it.

Freedom in whatever you are pursuing is not a carrot in front of a donkey.  It’s possible.  It’s real.  You can level up.  As a writer, I feel like I’ve gone from level 1 to level 2.  And I have the distinct feeling that I can’t go backwards.  So whatever you’re trying to do, keep trying it.  Don’t listen to people who tell you how things need to be or the struggles you’ll always have.  You may not always have them.  You may win.  Why not?  I’ve just started winning.

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This is second-hand unless you’re reading it at http://www.theilliteratescribe.com

To my mind [art and literature] are only healthy when they are either (a) Definitely the handmaids of religious, or at least moral, truth – or (b) Admittedly aiming at nothing but innocent recreation or entertainment. Dante’s alright, and Pickwick is alright. But the great serious irreligious are – art for art’s sake – is all balderdash; and, incidentally, never exists when art is really flourishing. … ‘[Art] ceases to be a devil when it ceases to be a god’.
– C.S. Lewis in a letter to a friend

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This is second-hand unless you’re reading it at http://www.theilliteratescribe.com

While at KLBC I read a book by Don Whitney. The premise was simple: Discipline is the price of freedom.

Of course, I had to agree right away. The amazing guitarist paid for the freedom to make his music with discipline. The Olympic athlete paid for his abilities through discipline. The software developer, doctor, dancer, singer and painter all paid with the currency of time, sweat and discipline.

But I never really made the connection with writing.

I love fiction. Reading and writing it. But it seemed that the ability to write decent fiction came in spurts. One day I could belt out a couple thousand words of good stuff. The next week I couldn’t write a thing. Non-fiction was always easier, because it’s a lot like talking (which I’m very good at). But fiction came and went. for a long time I assumed that this was just the way it goes.

But it’s not, really. There is nothing fundamentally different between fiction writing and music, visual arts or athletics. Some people have natural ability, yes. But everyone who wants to excel needs to pay for it.

But I never made that connection. And it stunted my writing. While other aspiring writers are busy with writing exercises and other talent-building strategies, I only focused on projects that seemed ‘productive.’ Just the things that seemed to have a use in themselves. I think I ripped myself off. The Olympian doesn’t feel like he’s wasting his time by running even though there is no race. The informal running prepares him for the race.

So I’m going to run more often (metaphorically, of course). A lot of my writing may never be read by anyone. But that’s okay because whatever I write will support and build and solidify the things that will be read.

On we go!

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This is second-hand unless you’re reading it at http://www.theilliteratescribe.com